


(Tommy) It's Cold Outside

by makuroshi



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Crushes, Delivery Boy Thomas, Enabler Chuck and Minho, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Newmas Mini Mini Winter Bang 2015, Newt is cute (what's new), Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makuroshi/pseuds/makuroshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is used to delivering pizzas in bad weathers, it's just something that comes with the job. But when a horrible blizzard hits the moment he presses on the doorbell for the final delivery of the day, Thomas finds himself standing in front of a very attractive blonde guy with the cutest smile he's ever seen. The boy offers shelter and a cup of hot chocolate, and really, how can Thomas say no?</p><p>Cover art by Val_Creative!</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Tommy) It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to [Val_Creative](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative) for the amazing photoset! Thank you so much, love! :*

[Tumblr link](http://nooowestayandgetcaught.tumblr.com/post/135605931037/tommy-its-cold-outside-by-makuroshi-read)

\-----------

Thomas is used to dealing with all kinds of klunk coming his way.

It’s been tough, living on his own in the city, and it’s nothing like the stories he’s heard from the shanks in his hometown. While there is some sort of freedom and fun that comes with leaving home to attend college, most of it are just bills, loans and rents that need to be paid.

To pay, he needs money.

Thomas is lucky enough to land a decent-paying job at a pizza place, thanks to his roommate’s recommendation. Minho is friends with the owner, so Thomas fits in rather quickly with the staff (which by the way consists of males _only_ , much to Minho’s disappointment). Working late hours and waking up early to attend classes is a tiring cycle, of course, but perhaps the least likeable thing about the job is the shitty weather that they often have to deliver in.

Winter is especially annoying, and for many reasons. People tend to stay at home during winter, so that equals to more people getting hungry at ungodly hours. When they cannot go out to get food, the only solution is to get food to come to them, and that translates into exponentially more orders received. The cold weather also has a hampering effect on everyone, somehow. Everyone is just sluggish and slow, always dreaming of wrapping themselves in a blanket and sleep the day through, and because Thomas is the new one, he’s always left with more orders than others (that, and because he usually is the fastest of them all).

His shift is almost ending any minute now. Alby, the store manager, is helping out Winston in wiping the tables and arranging the chairs in one corner while Chuck is at the counter, checking the cash drawers. Thomas stares at the clock, watching the seconds tick, already set to return to the comfort of his bed…

  
And then the phone rings.

 

Thomas groans.

 

“Hello! This is Frypan’s Pizza, may I get your order?” Chuck greets over the phone, voice still cheery as usual. Thomas is baffled as to how Chuck manages to stay so bubbly even when it’s so late at night. Honestly, does the kid ever get tired?

Glaring at the phone, Thomas reluctantly watches as Chuck scribbles the order down on the paper, nodding as he chatters away.

“One large pepperoni, with extra cheese? Is that all? Okay, yes, yes sir right away.” The instant he hangs up, Thomas sighs because he knows. He knows that since he’s the new one –the Greenie, as the boys call it- he’ll be the victim, the sacrificial lamb, because no sane man would want to go out in this weather at this hour, to deliver _one freaking pizza._

But then again, it’s his job. He is used to delivering under the worst weathers, to the worst kinds of customers possible (Thomas still hates that crazy eyebrows kid who tipped stingily and scolded him for no reason). Surely this is just another day at work.

The pizza is ready and out of the kitchen in record time, which shows just how much everyone wants to go home, really.

“Hey, Thomas, you sure you’re okay with this?” Chuck asks as he passes the box, looking concerned. ”I mean, it’s shucking freezing out there and you’re going on a bike.”

Thomas shrugs and offers a small smile, ruffling Chuck’s hair affectionately. Thank god it’s Chuck today, Minho would probably just laugh his ass off at Thomas’ expense. “It’s fine,” he says, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to create some heat. “How bad can it get?”

\-------------

It’s probably Thomas’ biggest mistake yet. 

The weather turned from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. It was cold when he first made his way out, but now Thomas is convinced that his fingers are going to drop one by one from gangrene before he even gets there.

When he finally sees the house at the end of the street, Thomas quickly checks the address, gets off the bike and dashes through the snow, wanting to just get it over with. The warmth radiating from the pizza box temporarily defrosts his hands, but even that is not nearly enough to fend off the icy chill that’s enveloping his whole body. He presses the doorbell and waits, staring at the red and green logo of a frying pan on the box like it’s the most interesting thing in the world (which it is, actually. Thomas still can’t believe that Frypan placed a frying pan. On a pizza box. Pizzas are baked in the _oven_.)

He hears footsteps rushing to the door and braces himself. _‘You shouldn’t judge people based on their pizza orders_ ’ is what Chuck always say to him, but sometimes he just can’t help it; large pepperoni with extra cheese just _screams_ greasy, plain and boring. Maybe it’s another middle aged guy slurring on his words, needing something to snack on while watching re-runs of football. Maybe it’ll be a broken-hearted girl with puffy eyes from crying, wanting some comfort food. Or maybe it’s just another stuck up jerk like the crazy eyebrow kid. Thomas is ready for anything.

The door opens and Thomas tries his hardest not to gape at the guy standing in front of him. Or stare, that is. Because staring is rude.

 

So apparently, he is _not_ ready for _this_.

 

For one, the man is cute. Like, really really cute. His blonde hair is messily styled, his eyes freaking twinkle, and when he smiles, all of a sudden Thomas forgets about the blizzard that’s threatening to kill him just moments ago. Not to mention the grey sweater that makes him look cuddlier than a teddy bear. 

There is just something ethereal about the beauty that this man possesses, something delicate yet captivating. Thomas thinks he reminds him of a magical creature… perhaps an elf? No, no, more like a pixie. Modern Peter Pan, of some sort.

“Uhm,” Thomas croaks out, not finding the words that used to come so naturally to him. “Pizza delivery?”

The adorable guy looks down at the box in Thomas’ hands, back at Thomas’ face and smiles all crinkly-eyed. “Yes, the pizza. Gosh, I’m terribly sorry for the trouble, I know it’s bloody cold outside---“  
  
_Holy shit_. Thomas thinks as his body starts to shut down. The boy is still talking, from what he observes, but Thomas hears nothing because _shucking hell this guy has a British accent_. What a way to crank up the hotness level to maximum.  
  
“--So would you like to come in?”  
  
Thomas gawks, positive that he is jacked. He looks down to see dollar notes in his hand, with some generous tip that warrants a victory dance later in his room. Hot guy has taken the box from him and is currently still staring at him with that gentle smile on his face, and Thomas’ mind goes blank, not that it hasn’t already.

“I’m sorry, what?” He must’ve heard that wrong, right?

“I asked if you’d like to come in and have a hot drink before you head back? You can’t be going out there in this mad weather.”

Thomas replays the word _can’t_ in his head a couple of times (because it’s ka-ant and not kent) before it finally clicks that he’s being offered shelter. Away from the blizzard, in this god-sent angel’s house.

It sounds an awful lot like the plot to the horror thriller film that Minho forced him to watch last week, and yes, although this man appears as dangerous as a hedgehog curled up in a ball with a flower crown on its head can be, Thomas doesn’t ignore the chances that he could become tomorrow’s headline -‘Delivery Boy Found In Pieces’ or something disturbing like that. His survival instinct has always been better than most, so he knows when to escape and when to stay.

Between turning into a block of ice in the blizzard and getting chopped into pieces by a cute British guy, Thomas thinks the choice is pretty obvious.

“You sure I won’t be a bother?”

“Yeah, I live alone so it’s fine,” The man steps aside to make way for him. When Thomas hesitates, he chuckles in amusement, and god, if that isn’t the cutest laugh Thomas has ever heard. “Stop looking so worried, won’t you? I’m not a serial killer or anything like that.”

 

Well, Thomas is about to find out.

\------------

“Here, make yourself at home. The name’s Newt, by the way.”

Thomas struggles to contain the grin creeping up his face at the realisation that finally, Hot Guy has a name. Which is stupid because he could have just looked at the receipt anyway.

“I’m Thomas,” he says, shaking Newt’s extended hand.

He half expects Newt to wince and pull away from his freezing hand, but the guy doesn’t react whatsoever. He simply nods and says, “Well then, Tommy, how does a cup of hot chocolate sound?”

 _Tommy. Tommy. **Tommy**_. “Sounds great,” Thomas chokes out, taken aback by the nickname and how much he loved hearing it in Newt’s voice. Screw ‘Greenie’, this is the nickname he’s always dreamed of.

“Usually Minho’s the one delivering, so I’m surprised when you showed up,” Newt says as he picks up an empty mug from the table, making his way to the kitchen. Thomas considers following him but decides that it’s a little too much, finally settling on the sofa next to the fireplace (A fireplace! A fireplace! How perfect can this house be?)

“You know Minho?” He asks, looking around the living room with curious eyes. There are family portraits, little paintings, some medals and other trinkets neatly arranged on the shelves. Nothing suspicious so far.

Newt shouts back his reply over the sound of spoons clinking. “Yeah, we went to school together. Track team for a year or so before I quit.”

“You quit? Why?” Thomas knows it’s a horrible question the moment it rolls off his tongue, but it’s out before he can stop himself. Damn his curiosity.

Newt doesn’t reply. Thomas is scared that he’s gone and ruined everything now, but then Newt reappears with two mugs of steaming chocolate drinks with that same beautiful smile on his face. Thomas never truly believed in angel, now he does.

“Injuries and some other problems,” he quietly says, setting Thomas’ drink on the table carefully. “It’s a bloody depressing story once I start so I’d keep it to that for now.”

Thomas has never hated himself more than this. He’s always been bad at minding his own business, always known for asking questions that really do not need to be asked, so it’s probably better if he just keeps his mouth shut.

Noticing that Thomas has gone completely silent, Newt looks up from the mug that he’s sipping from and frowns. “Is there something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no, no… I’m just—Sorry if I touched a sensitive subject.”

Newt shrugs, taking a seat next to Thomas. “Don’t fret about it, it’s nothing,” he says, before opening the box, the scent of melted mozzarella and tangy tomato wafting into the air. “Want some?”

Thomas stares at him incredulously. “You’re seriously offering pizza to the delivery boy?”

“Why not? Sharing is caring, or so I’ve heard. Besides, I can’t finish this whole thing by meself,” Newt calmly pulls a slice, letting the melted cheese turn into tiny stretchy goodness. Thomas gulps. “Minho sometimes stops by to have a slice too.”

“So that’s why he’s always late! And then I get all the blame.”

Newt takes a bite, and Thomas watches as he munches on the pizza, little cheeks moving with every chew. He lets out an appreciative sound, and the whole thing somehow makes him appear a hundred times more attractive than before. Thomas never thought the day would come that he would find another grown man eating as attractive.

 

And Minho, that slinthead, has been seeing this sight all this while? Lucky bastard.

 

“Oh, so you must be the newbie, right? I’ve heard stories about Frypan’s latest Greenie,” Newt says. Instantly, Thomas’s face contorts into a horrified expression. Seeing that, Newt bursts into laughter, slinging an arm around Thomas’ shoulder and giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “Good stories, Tommy, don’t worry. They are all quite fond of ya.” 

Thomas lets out a chuckle which comes out sounding a little too pathetic for his liking. Whatever, his mind is too busy comprehending and registering the fact that Newt’s arm is around him and that Newt has just called him _Tommy_ again to dwell on the things he say. “Not too convinced that’s the case, with how they’re treating me. I always get the shitty ones, for some reason..”

At that, Newt raises his eyebrows in surprise. “By shitty ones, you meant… me?”

The reaction coaxed from Thomas is instantaneous. “What-- No! No no no! That’s not what I meant,” Thomas babbles frantically, feeling his heart drop at the thought of upsetting Newt. He’s so embarrassed, so close to excusing himself and bolting out of the room when he notices the small smile playing on Newt’s lips as the boy watches him panic. Oh. _Oh._

“I was kidding. I know what it’s like. Greenbeans always gets it tough at first, but you’ll be fine,” Newt says, retracting his arm from Thomas to wind around the back of the couch.

Thomas struggles to fight the disappointment at the loss of contact. The thing is, Thomas wears his emotions clear on his face. He has no choice but to hide it well or else Newt will notice, and _lord forbid_ that Newt finds out that Thomas wants a cuddle or two.

Newt is still munching on his pizza like the cute chipmunk that he is, prompting Thomas’ gaze to wander back to the box. Two slices are gone, one in Newt’s hand and the rest untouched. _Fast eater_ , Thomas’ mind echoes, voice his but a little more sinister, _Wonder what else can that mouth do--_

Cheeks growing hot, Thomas clears his throat, brushing off the thoughts before it slips off the track and ventures into the land of no return, a.k.a into the gutter. Newt mistakenly takes it as Thomas wanting to say something, so he stops chewing to pay attention, which is, well, really sweet of him. Thomas just has a soft spot for people who listens, because people rarely do when he speaks.

“I, uhhh,” Thomas stutters, not knowing what to say. Newt still staring at him expectantly is not doing any good to his anxiousness either. Finally, he settles for “Do you mind if I have some?”, a line that doesn’t come out as smooth as he thought it would.

 

For some reason though, Newt finds that funny (Thomas won’t complain, he’d do anything to hear that laugh). He nudges the box closer to both of them, shoulder bumping against Thomas’. “Here, help yourself.”

\----------

It’s hard not to relax around Newt, Thomas realizes as they quickly fall into a casual talk with occasional light banter. They’ve just met for less than an hour and yet everything feels right, Thomas with his hands wrapped around his mug, warmth seeping from it slowly chasing the cold away while Newt lounges on the other end of the sofa, comfy in his own sweater. Newt is just… likeable, in every sense of the word. Not only is he friendly, he is genuinely a good guy. Thomas feels like protecting him from the evils of the world, and he doesn’t even know why.

The blizzard outside dies down sooner than Thomas would have liked. He wouldn’t even mind if it just goes on, that will buy him the time he needs to wind his way into Newt’s heart, but of course things don’t always go Thomas’ way. They rarely do actually.

 

The mug in his hand is mostly empty. Thomas thinks that it’s probably a sign that he needs to go.

 

“It’s getting really late,” Thomas mutters, taking a large gulp to down whatever’s left of the delicious chocolate which has long turned cold. He turns to look at Newt, who has apparently just realised that it’s been almost 3 hours. _3 freaking hours, chatting with a stranger._  “I probably need to get going.”

Something flashes in Newt’s eyes, Thomas notices, and be it his wishful thinking or not, he detects a sliver of disappointment in there. It gives him hope, unfortunately, and with every ounce of hope Newt gives to him Thomas’ heart feels a tonne heavier.

“Yeah, you must be absolutely knackered. Wouldn’t wanna hold you up,” Newt says with a slight tug at the corner of his lips. He rises from his seat slowly, moving the box away to clear up as Thomas stands too, hands awkwardly by his sides.

“Thanks, you know, for the drink and stuff. It’s not everyday that a customer would offer me some pizza,” Thomas quips, savouring the beautiful chimes of laughter that Newt lets out as a response. There are flowers, freaking _flowers_ blooming in his stomach now, and Thomas feels a cozy tingling warmth spreading out from his chest. Newt is perfect, and _shit_ , Thomas is so whipped.

“You’re a funny one aren’t ya Tommy,” Newt says, leading them both to the front door. “I have to thank you too, for the company.”

The surrounding air is still cold when Thomas steps outside, only better. Thomas carefully takes a step into the snow, sighing in relief at the fact that it doesn’t swallow up his whole leg. The crunches of snow from the ground is loud, but not loud enough to mask the pounding of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.

Dusting the snow off his bike, Thomas turns to give Newt one last longing and a hesitant wave. Newt waves back and smiles, closing the door only when Thomas is out of his sight.

 

When Thomas finally -shucking finally- gets to sleep, he dreams of kisses in the snow, cuddles by the fireplace and things that will never be.

\--------

It’s Saturday, and the first thing Thomas sees when he returns from a trip of delivering pizzas is Minho’s shit-eating grin.

“I see you’ve met Newt,” Minho says, lips quirking in that knowing smirk that gets Thomas’ blood boiling at times, more often than not. He leans against the counter and wiggles his eyebrows, as if asking Thomas to spill the beans.

 

Like _hell_ he will.

 

“Yeah, he’s a nice shank,” Thomas replies nonchalantly, like he did not spend the whole night after that encounter thinking about kissing the little smile off Newt’s face or snuggling him to sleep. “Gave me some great blackmail materials about you.”

Minho cackles loudly, moving aside to let Winston pass with a plate of garlic bread and a glass of Coke in his hands. The few early customers in the place are beginning to send weird questioning looks at them, but Minho has never been one who cares about what people think anyway. “You sure about that, Greenie? I’m thinking that as your roommate, _I_ have even more blackmail-worthy things to talk about. Especially since you clearly have a crush--”

“Slim it, Minho,” Thomas hisses, checking to see if anyone has overheard. “I do _not_ have a crush on him. We only talked a bit, that’s all.”

Minho crosses his arm, giving him his signature judgemental expression; so intense Thomas can practically _hear_ the ‘oh really?’ in that face. In the midst of their staring contest, Alby passes by and greets them both, patting Thomas on his head once. It catches him off-guard (and damn it, he lost), because Alby never does that to anyone. Ever.

Chuck is behind this, Thomas is sure of it. He was the only one who knew about the Newt thing, was there when Thomas came in early in the morning with a smile so bright it could light up a whole Christmas tree. And even though Thomas didn’t exactly said outright that he kinda _liked_ Newt, Chuck is usually sharp enough to catch onto these things. A quick glance at Chuck reveals that the boy is grinning, flashing a thumbs up at him when their eyes meet. Yeap, definitely him.

“So that means you don’t need his number,” Minho suddenly mutters, sighing deeply in an exaggerated manner. “Oh well, I was just about to give it to you. Shucks."

Thomas’ eyes widen. He grabs Minho’s shoulder on reflex and squeezes hard, digging his fingers in a way that should’ve made others wince. Minho _barely_ bats an eyelash.

“You have his number,” Thomas states.

“Of course, we’ve been friends for long,” Minho replies, nodding smugly. “Newt and I go way back.”

Thomas wants to wipe the grin off Minho’s face so badly, but he has to persevere. This might be his only chance of getting a way to contact Newt again. Sure, he could wait until his next pizza order, but no one knows when that will be, and frankly, Thomas is too far gone to let this chance pass. “And you planned on giving it to me,” he presses on.

Minho shrugs. He’s enjoying this a little too much. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need it now anyway.”

 

Thomas doesn’t want to come off as too desperate, although he definitely is.

 

It ends with Thomas having Newt’s number saved in his contacts and Minho walking away with a triumphant grin on his face, a week of paid lunches (plus desserts!) for him to look forward to. Now all Thomas needs to think of is how to say hi without sounding like a complete idiot, or worse, making it too obvious that he's interested in something more than cups of hot chocolate on a cold windy day.

 

(Easier said than done, but hey, it’s Thomas. He’ll manage.)

**Author's Note:**

> And... That's my first ever Newtmas fic! I've always wanted to write one, and I finally did :) Hope you enjoyed reading. Do check out the art on Tumblr and other fics in the [Newmas Mini Mini Winter Bang](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Newmas_2015_Mini_Mini_Winter_Bang/) as well. Kudos/comments are greatly appreciated ❤
> 
> P/S: Talk to me about Newtmas and its perfection on [my Tumblr](http://akickinthenuts.tumblr.com)!


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